


Challenge One - Cross

by Trojie



Series: Trojie's Pornathon Entries 2015 [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Crossdressing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4529976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin wears a skirt. It's a cunning disguise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Challenge One - Cross

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was cross. Naturally, I went straight to crossdressing. 
> 
> The shorter version of this fic won second place in its group! I am so chuffed <3

'Merlin, this isn't - oh, _God_ \- this isn't what Gaius meant -'

'Keep your voice down,' Merlin murmurs softly in Arthur's ear, his breath hot, tantalising. 'They haven't gone yet.'

'I appreciate your devotion to duty,' Arthur manages to rasp out, trying to pull his hips back from where they're pressed, for morality's sake, 'but surely it would be enough to just _tell_ the Bernicians that I'm betrothed. I don't see why the elaborate fakery is required?'

'Because a marriage treaty is neater than a border skirmish and they aren't sure they've got the numbers to match us in battle,' Merlin growls. 'And I know you're too honourable to think of it but there are ways to make a man say yes, Arthur. Forgive me for wanting to guard you.' And he wrenches Arthur close in a mockery of intimacy that has Arthur's body clamouring for things it cannot have.

Arthur is breathlessly sure that this was not the plan. Because they are supposed to be infiltrating an enemy stronghold but instead he's cataloguing the way that Merlin's staid woollen gown slides over his body because of the sheer petticoats beneath. He's picturing the filmy undergarments that Merlin had held up two days ago in the up-until-then entirely sexless cloisters of Arthur's royal bedchamber, when he'd said 'it's no good, you're going to have to help me. I don't know how girls do it.'

Shoved tight between the spread of Merlin's beskirted thighs, Arthur, helplessly, _knows_ how girls do it. He tries to remind himself that this is a cunning military ruse, not a heated dream. He mustn't take advantage. 'You don't have to -' he starts, possibly a week too late.

'Yes, I do,' Merlin growls. 'Otherwise you'd be doing this alone. Forgive me for thinking you're worth wearing a skirt for. And, for the love of all that's holy, _shut up._ ' 

The footsteps running past start to slow, and Merlin mutters, 'forgive me, my lord,' and dips his head a single inch to press his mouth to Arthur's. 

Merlin's squired for Arthur, dressed and washed Arthur, tended his wounds, looked after him when he's been bedridden, and yet it's like they've never touched before. Arthur's hands fly up to cradle that sharp face and hold on just a little longer - and Merlin's drop to Arthur's waist. Arthur knows he must have drawn breath, tried to speak, because Merlin takes the opening and licks his way in. 

If this is kissing, Arthur can see why men have thrown away honour for it.He pushes forward blindly into Merlin's hold, uncaring now of the shameful hardness in his breeches, and when Merlin moans into him and pulls them tight it becomes clear that Arthur isn't the only one so afflicted. Under those skirts, under all those layers of soft shifting cloth, Merlin's in the same state. 

The footsteps have gone, and Arthur sinks to his knees gratefully, desperate to touch, shameless in the dark. 

'Arthur, what - oh, god, please, you don't - you shouldn't -'

'I want to,' Arthur breathes, battlefield-bold. 'Let me. Merlin, will you let me?' He's already pushing his hands up under the skirts. 

Merlin's response is to part his legs wantonly and put his hands on Arthur's shoulders. 'Whatever you want,' he says, shuddering. 'Just - quickly. We're not safe out here.'

Arthur takes an impatient breath and ducks down. 

It's dark under here, dark and warm and it smells of …of arousal, of _Merlin,_ of the little room he occupies off Arthur's grand bedchamber, and Arthur has a sudden flush of heat, thinking of Merlin at night, touching himself so close to Arthur doing the same. He noses closer, rough lace parting as he pushes, fingers exploring until he finds the hot, hard shaft of Merlin waiting for him buried in all that delicate frippery. He touches it gently, reverently, with fingertips and then tentatively with the tip of his tongue. Merlin's moan comes translated through shuddering fabric and shivering skin, the noise barely coming through, but Arthur can feel it as he takes Merlin fully into his mouth, desperate to be closer. 

The thickness and weight of it is unfamiliar, heady. Arthur opens as wide as he can, until his throat can't take it any further, and he has to pull back or be choked. Even as he resents it, his own cock throbs tight in his breeches at the thought, that maybe, some other time, _soon_ , he might see how close he can flirt with that line. Instead though, he takes as much of Merlin in as he can, tucks in closer, until his eyelashes flutter against the fine linen of Merlin's undergarments, and his own hardness is rutted up against Merlin's leg, knees hard to the skirt-padded wall behind, and he lets his fingers quest further around. 

Merlin may be no girl, but Arthur wants to be inside him, with a sudden rush of ferocity, and can, and will. And oh, but Merlin almost melts against the bricks at the touch of Arthur's fingers to the tiny clench of muscle. 

It's too dry, too hard, and Arthur will have to wait to fuck Merlin like a girl in these skirts of his just like he'll have to wait to suck him until he chokes, but that doesn't matter right now because Merlin gives a shudder like a dying man and Arthur's mouth is suddenly drippingly full, the taste of it like wine, sour but addicting, and with that thought, that having tasted this fruit he's not willing to abandon it, Arthur is spilling uncontrolled and untouched in his breeches.

Merlin wrestles Arthur back to his feet, both panting and shaking. Arthur is trying hard to regain his composure when Merlin says breathlessly, 'I told you you were worth wearing a skirt for.'


End file.
